injustice

is a woman seemingly unarmed
without a blindfold
or any form of balance
oh she can dance
pirouette
preferably on someone’s forehead
or back
she whispers during sermons
taunts at celebrations
and mutters in any mob
her parasol
showing she is not part of it
she cheerleads vigilantes
sits on some juries
breathes on some judges’ writing hands
and rides along with cops feeling sour
she visits Sunday socials
has a garden full of nettles
and a cellar full of knives
no statues in courthouses honor her
but we do with our lives